The Future We Dreamed Of
by Jonetsu
Summary: A fire within him rekindled, and although he had been deprived of his sight and wouldn't be able to see the future he envisioned for Amestris, he refused to resign from it. [Royai][Post Fullmetal Alchemist:Brotherhood/Post Manga]
1. Rekindled

Soulless, gray eyes cracked open between puffy lids, his brow furrowed as he raised a bandaged hand to the bridge of his nose to try to nurse his headache as he propped himself upwards on his elbow. He instinctively attempted to scan the room, but picked up flecks of light with his peripheral vision instead, then cracked a wry smirk in spite of himself. His ears picked up the familiar pitter patter of heavy rain as it reverberated around the room, only to be followed by the crackling of thunder, the hallways of the hospital were unusually quiet, so he found solace in the assumption that it was night and therefore the lights were off, and it wasn't his sightless eyes confining him to the dark.

He sunk back into the shelter of his sheets, which were thin and cheap, and only exacerbated the cold. Battered and sore, his mind was the only part of him that was capable of wandering off, albeit reluctantly. Years of nightmare inducing insomnia had sparked his wish to keep his house barren, lest for a sole couch and a fridge.

He idly wondered if his companion was awake. "Hawkeye," he softly called out. She gently stirred from her sleep, the rustling of her hair over the pillow being an indicator. Amber eyes squinted as they tried to focus on his silhouette, outlined by a flash of lightning, then the rumbling of thunder. "Opening that gateway was terrifying," his voice was coarse and dry, "I used to believe I had a vague idea of what the Elrics had gone through, but I was nowhere near close."

She regarded him in silence, lightning flashed and she caught a glimpse of the dullness of his gaze, completely bereft of the fire she had known them to spark with. "When I woke up in that chamber, it was as if I had been violently shaken from a stupor. Everything was dark," He continued, his voice coming to a low enough murmur that she began to wonder if he had even meant to speak to her at all, "But what scared me the most, Lieutenant, was the possibility of never seeing your face again."

He grimaced as he passed a hand through his hair to soothe a bout of anxiety, "Are you even awake?"

"I'm here, sir." She answered almost immediately, as if to ease his spiraling psyche. Her eyes softened, "I believe we've been together long enough for my face to be embedded in your memory."

Roy's mouth contorted into a snarl as he balled his fists, gathering bits of his blanket into his vise grip. "That's not the point!" He barked at her, regretting it within the span of a second. Riza offered no reply. Defeated, he sighed deeply, and swung his legs over to the side of the bed to fumble onto his feet. She elicited a gasp, eyes transfixed on his stumbling frame as he took unsteady steps towards her side of the room. She rose to meet him a third of the way there and snaked his arm over her shoulder, with her own hand on the small of his back to guide him towards her bed. "Colonel, you mustn't move. You need to rest. We both do."

"Fine," He heavily plopped on the edge of her bed, adjusting his gown in a lazy way, before reclining back and tugging at her wrist to follow suit. He cradled her in the circle of his arms and whiffed her fragrant hair, the transition of his hands from the plane of her back to underneath her chin was clumsy, but withheld a familiarity she didn't wish to question. Riza suppressed her desire to crawl out of his embrace, and his arms were tense around her lithe frame as if he also struggled with the notion of staying. Boundaries had never been something they had established, perhaps because the fervor with which they sought to absolve themselves from their sins hadn't allowed them time for any fraternization to begin with.

In her youth, she had led a very sheltered life per her father's request and was often subject to his rants, many of which were peppered with hatred towards the military and its state alchemist program. Living in that household frightened her, her father was an unstable man held captive by his own brilliance. He was initially adamant about taking in an apprentice, but quickly relented due his deteriorating health. She remembered peeking around the corner into her father's dimly lit office hoping to catch a glimpse of the young man, but her father came to an abrupt stop in the middle of his lesson, which led his pupil to raise his head from some hastily written notes to survey the situation. Captivated by the boy's stare, she ran away upon witnessing her father's scowl in the background. In an attempt to befriend her, he'd leave books he had brought from Central near her bedroom door for her to find in the morning, before scurrying off to bed. Books that only served to intensify her already existing idealistic views of the world.

Upon her father's death, some of her resentment towards her estranged father evaporated along with him. With no other relatives or peers, Roy was the sole guest to his funeral. Where he asked in passing if she also disapproved of him joining the military, and from there, the conversation dissolved into his ramblings regarding the possibility of making Amestris a better place, not necessarily as a collective, but as a single soldier despite being expendable. He proceeded to sheepishly berate himself for his childlessness, but she admired his selfless perspective. Shortly after, she revealed to him the delicate and complex alchemical array that her father had branded onto her skin, an action that only helped cement how trustworthy she found Roy to be.

With an inquisitive finger, he had traced every line and curve with a fleeting, but titillating touch; marveled at its intricacy, and with earnest, deciphered it. A single feat that helped ensure he'd get state certified. With renewed beliefs, she enrolled in the military academy, eager to serve Amestrians, and in turn endorsed the senseless slaughter of the Ishvalans. Wracked with guilt, she begged Roy to deface her back in order to safeguard the very alchemy she had once vouched for in her naïve youth, he complied by searing it into an illegible disarray. She opted to shoulder the responsibility of her actions, and sided with Roy with the intentions to exonerate herself through the attainment of his goals.

Her having played a pivotal part in the war had shaped her into the soldier she was today, compliant enough to follow him into the depths of hell, analytical enough to know when to intervene, and dutiful enough to forsake her life for the sake of his endeavors. When the Promised Day arrived, she was quick to discard herself of any sort of optimism, knowing full well their strength would be tried in more ways than one. Bearing witness to Roy's crumbling sanity upon encountering Envy had fragmented some of her faith in their ability to succeed, mainly due to the uncanny resemblance between the seething flame alchemist and her late father. She experienced nothing short of relief when he lowered her revolver, a hand that was trembling despite having callously assimilated itself to the frame of her sniper rifle once she picked her target in Ishval. And yet, there was something comforting about this uncharacteristic display of affection that led her to question his prerogative.

Roy was lulled into a respite from the recurring image of her lifeless body being crudely dragged onto a transmutation circle, one whose chalk was blotted by the expanding pool of her blood. A brilliant red that intensified the color of her golden locks, yet marooned when coming in contact with it; her sluggish hand pressed against the slit of her wound and dilated pupils strained to stay open. Numbness had cast its somber veil on him and the scene had grown blurry with every passing second. Nothing had prepared him for that situation, mainly due to his concept of her willingness to persevere, a form of self-deception that strengthened his belief that she would never come to harm under his watch. It had been incomprehensible to him why she aimed her weapon at his back when she did, and in an attempt to dissuade her asked her what she'd do once she pulled the trigger. But her answer set a parallel for their co-dependence, one he had failed to acknowledge before. His wish to pursue his dreams would've surely perished, had he lost her.

And now he held her with an intensity that couldn't quench his thirst for the confirmation that she'd never voluntarily abandon him. Regardless of their individual efforts to find justifiable cause for their current position, it wasn't necessary to provide each other with an explanation. He had once spat some foolish rhetoric at Hughes regarding his friend's ability to return home from war and embrace the woman he loved with bloodied hands, and back then, he hadn't quite grasped what Hughes was vying to explain to him. But as he laid here, limbs entwined with the woman who indulged his every request, yet obediently followed three steps behind him; it dawned on him. He tenderly tightened his hold on her, tucking the crown of her head under his chin as she reciprocated by threading her fingers through his hair at the nape of his neck and sighing.

"You will never have to go through something like that again, Lieutenant," Her eyes widened, "I give you my word."

"I know, Sir." A fire within him rekindled, and although he had been deprived of his sight and wouldn't be able to see the future he envisioned for Amestris, he refused to resign from it.

The sun quickly rose to its zenith atop a bed of clouds, with its shimmering light shafts illuminating the room with ease, and the lively chirping of a single bird roused Riza from her sleep. In the dead of the night, he had sought refuge in her, and she had not only graciously provided it, but benefited from it in the most intimate of ways. She lingered in Roy's embrace for a moment, savoring the warmth of his body, before carefully extracting herself from his hold in lieu of his old hospital bed.


	2. Stalemate

_Three Years Later_

Having relinquished his title as Führer to Grumman was difficult, but also crucial. To be reinstated as the leader of Amestris implied he'd be able to watch it thrive, an impossibility that was later eradicated by Dr. Marcoh's efforts; with the arrangement that Roy would assist on the reconstruction of Ishval as Brigadier General. Reinvigorated, he provided the doctor with the guarantee that he'd call off the military occupation, and return the lands to the Ishvalans that remained living in the slums. With the help of Major Miles in order to deal with Ishvalan affairs, and Scar having stepped up to plate to conserve cultural and religious beliefs, they managed to mend ties between the two rivaling countries, and even shaped it into a trading point between Amestris and Xing.

As a notable member of Central Military Command's board, it was a requirement for him to partake in their current discussion; one that had democracy as a foundation for the metropolis, rather than its current absolute law. He grew restless the longer he remained seated, something that could only be placated by the meeting's conclusion, which Grumman eventually granted.

Falling into step alongside him, Riza queried, "How was it, Sir?"

"Tedious," He grumbled under his breath, "I left with more paperwork than I started with."

"You knew it wouldn't be effortless." She stated blandly while holding the door ajar as he slipped into his coat, before venturing outside. "Your mail, Sir."

Roy perused the stack with indifference, until an envelope piqued his interest. He slid a curious finger under the flap, before erupting into a coughing fit from the smoke and glitter unleashed as a toy jack-in-a-box materialized before them while holding up a sign _It's a Boy!_ His eyebrow twitched and Riza stifled a chuckle. He proceeded to stomp on it multiple times in a fit of rage, prior to igniting the doll and watching it unwind with a gargling sound as its googly eyes and long, blonde braid liquefied into a gooey mess. "FUUUUUULLMEEEEETAAAAAAAAAAAAL."

The train ride to Resembool was long, and Roy had been furiously protesting from the moment she bought the tickets at the booth, throughout the length of the ride while cramped in a single compartment, to finally arriving at the station by sunset. She had resorted to staring out the window, despite the barren country lands, some foliage and sheep farms merging together into an indistinguishable blur due to the train's speed, in hopes of funneling him out.

"Couldn't we be escorted there in a car?" Roy whined, tugging at the neck of his dress shirt as they walked along the path nearing the Rockbell household.

"You know we're not allowed to request transportation for personal furloughs, Sir." Riza reasoned, and he shot her a miffed look. From the porch of the residence, Den lifted his head at his own leisure and sprung to his feet with a wagging tail to greet the two, all the while barking. "Hey, boy," She exclaimed warmly, squatting down to scratch under his neck.

"HEY, MUSTANG." An automail leg kicked the front door open, "HOW'D YOU LIKE MY LETTER!" Followed by exaggerated laughter.

"THAT'S BRIGADIER GENERAL ROY MUSTANG TO YOU, YOU CHILDISH PLEBEIAN." The two men vanished into a cloud of dust as they ran one after the other, with intermittent insults ringing through the open field.

"I'm really sorry for the inconvenience," Al fumbled nervously, scratching the back of his head, "Brother forced me to transmute that for the General."

"It may not seem like it, but he's really glad to be here. It serves as a reprieve from our work over at Central," Riza offered him a warmhearted smile, "Thank you for notifying us. You look well, Alphonse."

A violent explosion caused the two to look over their shoulders to investigate its origin, they spotted Roy having donned his ignition gloves, trailed by a sequence of snaps. Edward slid into an abrupt stop among the debris, clapped his hands and set them on the ground to no avail. "Eh, worth a try." He leapt away at the last second, frowning at his singed boot upon safely landing elsewhere.

"WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU ARE DOING?" Edward deadpanned at the shrill voice, then managed to dodge the zooming wrench thrown in his direction, "Winry, what giv-" he trailed off upon being smacked by the second.

Meticulously removing his gloves, Roy scrutinized Edward, whose limbs were contorted and had a single trail of blood emanating from his left nostril. "Serves you well, Fullmetal."

After being ushered inside by a flustered Winry, Riza politely excused herself from the conversation once idle talk derailed into the topic of Ishval's restoration. Roy relayed as much information as he was authorized to, with the exception of omitting stale aspects that the brothers wouldn't be intrigued by. Winry sauntered back into the living room carrying a tray of tea, before leaving the boys to their own devices upon seeing Riza resting her elbows over the railing on the porch. She climbed the stairs to her son's nursery and gently scooped him up while crooning a simple lullaby.

"Would you like to hold him?" Riza redirected her gaze to Winry as she emerged from behind her, carrying her infant son.

"I'd like that." Riza stiffly held him once the fussing baby was transferred to her arms, and her tightened mouth developed into a gaping smile. She readjusted the blanket around him, peering into vibrant gold eyes that fluttered slowly and then squinted close while yawning.

Winry cooed while offering a finger for the infant to curl his delicate hand around, "Miss Riza, how do you do it?" Upon seeing the Captain's puzzled look, she continued, "How can you give up so easily on your happiness with the General for the sake of our country?

"We chose this path the moment we put on our uniforms." She voice, repositioning the fallen pacifier between the baby's lips, "So people like you, people like Edward and Alphonse, could continue their lives unencumbered. But we were unwilling pawns in a greater plan, and it's now our duty to correct it."

Winry opened her mouth to refute, but was interrupted by Pinako, who was in the kitchen supervising the beef stew, calling her to help with dinner. The baby began getting fussier, all the while rubbing his eyes with a tiny fist and pulling at his ear in between gurgles. Riza ascended the stairs and laid him in his crib, which was barren and had faint traces of alchemical transmutation.

"This look suits you." Roy murmured, nonchalantly leaning against the door's frame with crossed arms.

"I beg to differ," She replied, mirth in her tone. "He's so fragile."

"He's a cute kid."

Their eyes met, and in the interval of a second, he envisioned the future he ached to provide for her. One where she was an ardent lover instead of a soldier whose hands were saturated in blood. One where she was a mother holding her own kin instead of yearning to appease her delusions by living vicariously through someone else.

A knock on the door garnered their attention, and Alphonse interjected shortly after, "Brother doesn't want to admit it, but he's doing his best to be the father he believed we never had." His shoulders sagged, "I just wish mom and dad were here to see us."

"I'm sure they'd be proud of the men you've both become." Riza consoled him.

"Yeah," Alphonse sheepishly grinned, pink tinting his cheeks, "Granny says dinner's ready."

After partaking in a short meal, they were accompanied to the station by Edward and Alphonse, despite having politely demurred at the suggestion. Gesturing a goodbye from within the train, Riza leafed through a book while Roy scrutinized her countenance.

"So we're at a stalemate." He observed as she lowered her book to intersect his gaze, "The rules of chess state that when a stalemate occurs, the game ends in a draw. But it could also serve as a metaphor, where conflict has reached an impasse and resolution, if even possible, is unattainable."

"Ah," Amber eyes cast down, Riza sealed her book close, "And so we are."

With a grim expression, he uttered, "We've never set aside time to sift through that night at the hospital."

"We've never had to," She countered, eyes brimming with longing transfixed on the window.

Growing increasingly apprehensive, Roy scooted forward to clutch both of her hands, which laid atop the book on her lap. "Your firmness is unnerving, Hawkeye."

She tenderly relocated her palms above his while volunteering a smile. "I only seek to be reassuring, Sir."

Her response helped assuage his displeasure, he squeezed her hands before prying them out of her grasp and sitting upright. Whereas Riza reopened her book and resumed where she had left off for the remainder of the ride home.


End file.
